


Something Worth Living For

by CaffeinatedMoose



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-08
Updated: 2015-08-08
Packaged: 2018-04-13 16:32:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,281
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4529106
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CaffeinatedMoose/pseuds/CaffeinatedMoose
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(Tags will be updated as warning-worthy things happen. Rating for future smut, and violence.)</p><p>When the yellow-eyed demon came that night on November second, nineteen-eighty-three, half of the Winchester family was taken. Mary was dead. Sam was...who knows where. Probably dead. No, he had to be out there somewhere. Dean never gave up hope. </p><p>Dean never expected to find his brother again, after all these years. They never expected so many things to happen in a short amount of time, causing them to be drawn together so quickly, as if they'd known each other their entire lives.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Something Worth Living For

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to my buddy RaeLaser for some inspiration on a couple tough scenes!

 

 

Today, November 2nd, was the bane of Dean's entire existence. It was the twenty-second anniversary of the day half of the Winchester family had been taken. It was also a Tuesday, three weeks to the day since he'd last heard anything from his father. For the first time in his life, Dean was completely alone. John's presence made it bearable, but now he didn't have even that.

He clutched his beer bottle tighter. The condensation was starting to make the label come off and he picked at it with one hand. The bar he was sitting in had just enough noise to make it harder to think and the alcohol helped with the rest. Today, Dean wanted to do absolutely nothing but get drunk and maybe kill something. The bartender had tried striking up a conversation, but his libido just wasn't into flirting back. He'd probably kick himself for it tomorrow, since she was pretty hot, but for now Dean just wanted to mope in peace.

He blamed himself for that day. How could he not? He'd carried Sammy in his arms away from the burning room, through the front door without a clue as to the danger. The next thing he knew he being shaken awake by his terrified father, asking what had happened to his baby brother.

Neither of them knew. But the bets were high that whatever had killed Dean's mother that day had also stolen Sam away from them. And so John and Dean spent every single day following the tragedy tracking down the son of a bitch. Twenty-two years and still nothing.

Sam was still alive. He was out there somewhere. He had to be. Dean kept telling himself that over and over again. Sam would be twenty-two now and he had no idea what Sam would even look like. If they ever met on the street, he wouldn't recognize him. Still, he clung to that hope. It was all he had left.

He slapped some money down on the counter and stumbled towards the exit of the bar. The day hadn't even started, so Dean didn't want to get too drunk just yet. Killing something was still on his list, it was just a matter of finding it.

Dean had to take a moment to lean against the driver side door of his car, a '67 Chevy Impala that his father passed down to him. He treasured the car greatly and had used everything his father had taught him to keep the old vehicle well maintained. It was easy to spot in a crowd, but he didn't care. She was his baby and right now the only thing Dean had left of his father. He grumbled as he crawled into the back seat to curl up for a few hours to sleep off the alcohol before heading out on the road. It seemed to be a common occurrence nowadays.

The coordinates his dad had left in his journal had pointed here, Blackwater Ridge, Colorado, but so far Dean had found no sign of him. Technically Blackwater Ridge was all the way out by Lost Creek Trail, a popular hiking and camping spot. Lately the place had been plagued by bear attacks. At least, that's what the rangers all said. But Dean knew better. There was something out there, and he had to find it before it could hurt anyone else. He knew it was what his dad would want him to do.

A few hours later, after a pit stop to his motel room to freshen up and take care of the remnants of his hangover, he arrived at his destination, pausing to take a few minutes outside his car to plan his next course of action. He folded the map that had been in his hands and looked out towards the forest. He didn't like the idea of going out there by himself, but he had no choice. The campsite had been deserted ever since the rumors started and the parking lot was clear save for him and his car. If he was going to do this, it had to be now.

\----

November second was his birthday. Or at least, it was the only day of importance to him. He had been told it was the day he came to live with Master Azazel. Therefore, it was the day he was reborn. Sure, he'd been a few months old when his Master found him, but he didn't know when his true birth date was, so this is when he celebrated.

The night before, Sam and his siblings ate and drank. They had a feast celebrating another year of success. As Sam entered his twenty-second year, it was clear that he was their Master's favorite. His abilities were increasing in strength faster than any of the others. When the siblings sparred, it was Sam that was the last one standing in the middle, his brothers and sisters pinned to the edges of the room. Usually after the feast, they would go out together and have a bonfire with more drinks. But this time was different. This year was special. Azazel pulled his favorite student aside while the others retreated to their beds.

"Sam," Azazel crooned with a crooked smile, "You know you've always been my favorite. You've made me so proud."

Sam tipped his head in respect and waited. He knew his Master had more to say.

Azazel produced a file and opened it to leaf through some papers, pointing to a photo, then tracing a finger down the next few pages of relevant information. "I have a special mission for you. I've had someone on my tail for a while, and I want you to take care of him for me. This Dean Winchester wants to break up our family. He wants to hurt us. You'll get rid of him for me, won't you, Sammy?"

Sam grinned proudly, energy starting to buzz through him in excitement. "Of course, Master. It'll be like he never existed." He took the file on his target and skimmed over last known locations. Azazel's minions had seen him only a few days ago. Sam would start there, and Azazel's men would contact him along the way with updates. He gathered up a duffel bag with a few changes of clothes, some food, and some basic necessities. He wanted to get a head start so he would be closer to his target come morning. He only had to drive a few states over. He could make it by the next day. Sam tossed the bag into the backseat of his black Dodge Charger and started off to go and find Dean Winchester.

By first light, Sam was crossing over the state line into Colorado. Through the night, Azazel's minions had called him a few times to confirm sightings of Dean arriving in an area called Blackwater Ridge, near the Pike National Forest. He'd had a lot of time to think about his plan of attack. When he'd stopped for a snack a few hours back, he'd read through the file some more. This Dean Winchester seemed to be a pretty easy going guy on the surface, spending his time chowing down on junk food and wooing women, but deep down he had a hatred for Azazel and his kind. He'd dedicated his life to destroying anything supernatural and paranormal, which seemed incredibly judgmental to Sam. Most of the things this guy killed weren't inherently bad. It wasn't even their fault. However, Dean charged headfirst towards killing anything that wasn't human. If it even displayed aggressive behavior, it was fair game. Sam didn't like the thought of that. If he didn't stop Dean, the Hunter, as he was called by profession, would come to wipe out Azazel and his siblings, probably him too.

The problem was, with the life he led, Dean was also proficient in hand-to-hand combat and weaponry. The usual brute strength might not cover it. He'd have to catch Dean by surprise, and to do so, Sam would have to get close to him, get Dean to trust him so he could be disposed of easily. He'd make Azazel so proud when he brought back Dean's lifeless head.

After another few hours, he was passing through Denver. As it was only a couple hours from Blackwater Ridge, it seemed like a good place to stop for some lunch and a few hours sleep. After picking up a sandwich at a local gas station, he drove to the outskirts of town and pulled in behind some abandoned buildings while he ate his sandwich. He leaned the seat back and slept for a good few hours. He had no doubt that he was safe. If anyone tried to sneak up on him, he'd feel them coming before they even got close. Bonuses of these abilities, not having to pay for motels when he traveled. He was safe anywhere.

Around early afternoon, Sam was jolted awake by a dream, or rather a vision. He saw a small group of people running through the forest. They seemed to be in a hurry, chasing something or being chased. As the vision changed angle, he saw that the person at the lead of the group was Dean Winchester. The other person running was himself. And the thing behind them was a little hazy. It moved too fast and was humanoid, but not human. Sam couldn't hear what was said, but when the group stopped in a clearing, his vision zoomed in on a leather bound book with drawings and handwritten descriptions. Dean was after something. That was why he was in the area. Maybe if Sam got there in time, he could tag along and pretend to be interested in catching the creature, too. As he drove off, he held onto the feeling from his vision, hoping it would guide him closer to Dean.

Soon enough, he was pulling into a parking lot near a trailhead and an adjacent ranger station. There was only one other car in the lot, a shiny black classic era Chevrolet. And there stood Dean Winchester himself, with his back turned, reading a map. Sam parked his car at the other end of the parking lot and got out, stretching as he walked over towards the ranger station. Before he approached his target, he had to find out more about what Dean was hunting, and more about the area. He casually perused the displays talking about animals in the area, and poisonous plants, but what he was looking for were newspapers or records of attacks in the woods. He picked up a local paper from a stand near the door and spread it out on top of one of the glass cases, skimming through it, and grinning when he found specifically the kind of stories he was looking for. A few campers had gone missing recently, and it was suspected that bears had killed them, but no one really knew, because no one who went missing ever came back.

\----

Dean lifted his head up when he heard the rumble of an engine and the sound of a car door. He looked across the lot to see another person had pulled in. Technically the park was still open, but he wished that the recent news would be enough to keep people away until he was able to handle this situation. Evidently not.

He stuffed the map into the pocket of his leather jacket and followed the newcomer inside. He looked to be pretty close in age to himself, perhaps three or four years younger. Probably just a curious college kid. Dean observed for a few moments and lo and behold, the kid eventually went for the newspaper articles about the recent disappearances.

Now he was closer, he noticed the other boy was actually taller than him by about four inches. But he had a look about him that reminded him of a puppy, especially with the floppy hair.

Sam's shoulders tensed a hint when he heard someone else come in. He didn't have to look away from the newspaper to know who it was. He kept his eyes down, attention on the article, soaking it in. The paper hinted at one person who claimed to have seen something other than a bear, but he didn't sound too reliable. According to his vision, it hadn't been a bear. He wasn't sure what it was yet, but no bear moved like that.

He smiled when Dean approached. His chest expanded slowly with a deep breath to compose himself.

"You workin' on a paper, too?" Dean asked as he casually leaned against the table of a nearby display case with his arms folded across his chest.

A paper, huh? That was his cover? "Nah, just happened to be in town, passing through. I'd heard Blackwater Ridge was a nice hiking area, so I wanted to check it out." He took the moment to look Dean up and down, a quick once over to size up his opponent. Sam was taller, stronger. He could take him, but for now he'd have to play nice.

"But them grizzlies, man," Dean continued with a frown and a small shudder. "With all the attacks going on lately it's a wonder anyone ever comes out here anymore. I’m surprised to see you up here."

"Grizzlies? Why would they attack unless provoked? With so many attacks, I find it hard to believe it’s just bears. Maybe something… smarter. Faster." Sam gave Dean a mischievous grin, eyes narrowing as his gaze wandered to Dean's leather jacket, and the strange pendant he wore around his neck. He leaned in, voice lowering. "You know, you don't look much like a college guy. You look more like you're stuck in the wrong year. Just something about you. You're gonna go track this thing down, aren't you?"

Dean blinked in surprise that this guy had thrown his cover out the window in a matter of seconds. Not many people could see through an excuse like that, and the only one who even had a chance to be that clever would have to be a hunter as well.

"What're you saying, I'm too old for college? Ouch." However Dean looked more amused than insulted. It was probably the first time all day where he acted like his normal self, given the situation and current date. It actually felt nice.

Sam just laughed as Dean got all defensive and shook his head. "It's not that. You just..." He wasn't about to say that with Dean's worn out leather jacket and carefree attitude, that he looked more like a dropout that wouldn't even pass entrance exams. "Nevermind."

Dean leaned in closer as well, now resting his forearms against the same display that Sam had laid the newspaper over. "What about you, geek boy? You don't seem like you're out on a hike, either,"

Sam frowned, thinking over what kind of cover to use. Would he give Dean his name, or use a fake? He didn't really use last name, so it wasn't like Dean could track him down. Hell, he didn't even know where he was originally from before Azazel had found him. He'd always wondered about it, but Azazel pretended like he didn't know either. He told Sam it wasn't important, that his new life was what mattered. He really didn't have anything to lose or gain by revealing his name. Holding out a hand, he gave a small smile. "Okay, I'm not a student, or a hiker either. I just want to know what killed these people so it won't happen again. Name's Sam."

The smile on Dean's face became strained at just hearing the name Sam. It was pretty common, and in his travels Dean had met exactly twenty-eight people named Sam. Not that he was keeping track or anything, because that would be weird and obsessive. But it never got easier hearing it, because those people were never the right Sam. What were the chances of just running into each other after all these years?

"Dean." He suppressed a flinch at how weird his voice sounded and cleared his throat to try again. "I'm Dean." He shook Sam's hand.

A tiny hint of a memory flash hit San when he heard the name Dean. He was laying back in a crib as a baby, and this little floppy haired kid was leaning over him, saying "Goodnight Sammy." It was only a split second, but it made him hold onto Dean's hand a little longer than necessary. He couldn't remember anything from before Master Azazel, he'd been too young, but once in a while he'd get a flicker of a vision. A hazy look at someone's face, or a sound like someone's voice saying his name. Goosebumps prickled along his arms as he stepped back. It took him a moment to soak in what Dean had been trying to tell him.

But Dean spoke first. "So, tell me, if it's not a grizzly, then what else could it be?" It was a test. He wouldn't reveal his hunter status just yet, deciding to play what innocent cards he had left in order to make sure he had the right impression about Sam.

Thinking back to his earlier vision, Sam remembered the hazy image in the journal Dean had been holding. He couldn't make out the writing, but it looked like he was trying to explain the thing that had been chasing them. "I don't think it's something natural." Skimming through the article and pointing out a few passages, he glanced up at Dean, hoping to be vague enough that it still sounded like he was just a curious passerby. "People say it moves too fast to see and sounded like nothing ever recorded. Bears are too big to move quickly."

Even if he wasn't a hunter, this kid was smart. Dean considered himself impressed. Not many people could piece together clues like that, no matter how plausible blaming grizzlies sounded. But still, for however much he knew, Dean couldn’t let Sam’s curiosity get the better of him.

"Listen, Sam,” he began. “It's probably just a good idea to forget about it. None of those people who went missing were seen alive ever again. Whatever's out there is dangerous, so if you don't want to be torn to shreds then you're better off staying away from here."

It was the original reason why he'd followed Sam inside in the first place. Dean didn't want any more lives to be endangered if he could help it. He didn't know why, but he was suddenly feeling protective. Maybe it was just because Sam shared a name with his baby brother.

"You think I can't handle it, huh? What makes you so much tougher?" Sam was frankly a little offended that Dean thought he was just some pansy-ass civilian who would be shredded and killed by whatever the thing was. Oh how he wished he could just show Dean what he could really do. He wasn't worried at all. He could probably knock the creature back just by closing his eyes and thinking about it. If he were a cornered animal, his fur probably would have been puffing up and standing tall. It took all his self control not to prove his strength right here and now.

"And what makes you think you can?" Dean retorted.

Sam just stared incredulously. He didn't know what to say. He was just stunned at Dean's smartass attitude and how it seemed to get on his every nerve. Sam sighed and glanced away. He didn't usually have such a short temper, but this guy being so cocky, treating him like a kid was getting to him a little. "Listen. Sorry for snapping. You just… seem like a nice guy. Wouldn't want to see your body on the front page either. Maybe we can track this thing together. I get the feeling we're both a little better equipped to handle some mysterious beast than the average camper."

It wasn’t the type of reply Dean expected, but it was something that made him reconsider his argument. True, it would probably be suicidal going out there by himself and frankly he didn't want to. And that was the only reason why he'd even consider Sam's offer. He was used to working cases with his dad, but hardly anyone else. He still wasn't sure if Sam could be trusted.

Dean ran his hand over his face and sighed as he tried to decide what he should do. A glance at his watch helped the verdict go faster. He straightened up from where he'd been leaning against the display and made his way towards the door. "Come on, we're losing daylight," was all he said before walking out of the ranger station. It was as close to an answer as Sam was going to get.

Sam just rolled his eyes and followed Dean out the door, heading over to his car to get a few things. He didn't really have much in the way of weapons. He'd never needed much with his natural abilities. He could hold his own with simply his bare hands and his mind. He dug a few knifes out of his bag, strapping them to his thighs, and a simple handgun, which he tucked inside his jacket. Most of these things were mainly for if he was caught by surprise in close combat. Lastly, he grabbed a flashlight, a bottle of water, and an extra sandwich he'd bought earlier to eat on the road. He might need it if they stayed out late.

Meanwhile, Dean crossed the empty lot to his car and unlocked the trunk. He lifted the false bottom to reveal the multitude of various weapons stored underneath and began packing several of them into a duffel bag. He still didn't know exactly what they would be up against so he packed a little of everything. He looked over at the flare guns, shrugged and decided it couldn't hurt to bring those along too, even though there were only a handful of things that needed to be set on fire to kill. The last thing he grabbed was his father's journal, but Dean would keep that in an inside pocket of his jacket.

Turning to meet Dean at his car, Sam caught sight of a multitude of weapons in the trunk just before Dean covered the lid of the storage compartment. "Impressive," he noted before following Dean towards the trail. "With that kind of collection, I'd say you've been doing this for a while."

Dean shut the trunk and turned towards where the trail started. There were only a couple hours of sunlight left, so it was now or never.

Following Dean down the trail, Sam gazed up at the trees. His pace slowed as he took in a few slow breaths, letting his senses wander. He reached out with his mind, looking for anything that would be a threat to them. Mostly small animals. He yawned as he dug in his pocket for the sandwich and took a bite. He should have grabbed another coffee before he pulled up to the ranger station.

"You don't really think it's a bear, do you?"

"No I don't," Dean answered as they walked. So far the scenery was all predictable, nothing but trees, leaves, and dirt. The campsites were a ways ahead, but mostly people had disappeared from camping deeper inside the forest. "As you said earlier, this thing is much too fast and strong to be a bear. Besides, these attacks are happening in a pattern. You saw those newspaper articles. A few people every twenty-three years, ever since nineteen-thirty-something. No grizzly can live that long."

Sam nodded thoughtfully. He was glad that at least Dean didn't actually think it was a bear. He was smarter than Sam thought, putting together the evidence. "You must have some idea. If you go after things like this on a regular basis, haven't you seen anything similar?"

"I've got a few ideas," Dean admitted. "But a bunch of mutilated bodies isn't much to go on. There are about a dozen monsters out there that can do that sort of thing. I won't know for sure until I track the son of a bitch and it's hiding place a little more." He turned towards Sam and gave him a light smile. "You didn't think I'd come all the way out here without doing my homework, did you?"

Dean stared at Sam and his sandwich and suddenly found himself wishing he'd brought along something more solid than Peanut M&Ms. Half the bag was gone from eating on the road, but he hadn’t thought that he’d be walking in the forest to track a monster either, or else he would have come better prepared.

"Tell me something, Sam. You're not a college student partying between semesters but you don't do what I do either. But you came prepared to face something." He looked between the knives and the handgun. "Is seeking out danger a habit of yours?"

When he'd finished the sandwich, Sam swigged back some water. He looked over towards Dean as he balled up the plastic wrap from the sandwich, rolling it between his hands idly. "Just… precautions. I keep these with me at all times."

Sam couldn't exactly tell the truth. He didn't really have a legal job, or a college degree, but that didn't mean he wasn't smart and fit. Along with his regular schooling all his life, he'd studied everything from paranormal subjects to martial arts. When he finished high school, his studying never stopped. He just kept on reading anything he could find in Azazel's house. The yellow-eyed man had been around for a long time and gathered quite the collection. Reading was possibly his favorite pastime.

But now, what was he? When he wasn't studying, he was sparring with his siblings, and after he'd turned eighteen, he took jobs from Azazel, hunting down anything that got in the way or threatened them. Azazel was pretty high in the rankings of demons, and he had a lot of enemies. So, really, Sam was a volunteering assassin. He didn't get paid (not that Azazel wouldn't have given him anything he wanted), but he did it to protect his family and because he respected Azazel. He couldn't really tell Dean that either. Dean didn't need to know that he was a damn good fighter, with his hands or a gun. No need to make Dean nervous. "I do a bit of work for some people when they need a threat taken care of. Paranormal, or human. Anything that pops up."

Dean adjusted his duffel bag over his shoulder more securely. "So... you're an assassin. That doesn't scare me at all," he said sarcastically in an attempt to keep his cool. They were in the middle of the forest with nobody around. And he didn't know Sam. Sam could pull the gun on him and no one would ever know. Dean shoved the thought down and hid it behind a grin. "I mean, course it doesn't. Who would want me dead, right?"

Luckily Dean didn't linger on it. He just shoved a handful of M&Ms in his mouth and continued along.

Sam chuckled, then tilted his head, giving Dean a mischievous smile. At least he hadn't told Dean exactly who he was hired by. "You don't have anything to worry about. By the sounds of it, you do a good service to the world. The only people who'd want you dead are well, the things you hunt. You don't leave any survivors, do you?" He said teasingly as his smile softened, hopefully into something endearing. His siblings often called this his puppy dog look, and it made him irresistibly trustable.

Dean responded with an equally mischievous smile. "No, course not. They hurt people, they get what's coming to them." He let Sam walk ahead, though frankly it didn't make him feel any better.

It made him wish his father was here, but he was starting to suspect he never had been. If he had he would have left some sort of sign or something. That meant Dean was once again alone and without any clue as to where he'd gone.

Sam took another long sip of his water as he led the way down the path. Up ahead, they were approaching a clearing. In the distance, he could see some camping equipment through the bushes. However, before they could clear the trees, Sam stopped dead, sensing something coming at them. He waited, listening until the rustling in the forest came close enough for Dean to hear it, and put out a hand to stop him from going any closer. He motioned for Dean to keep quiet while he peered through the trees.

From across the clearing there was a growl and a scuffling noise, then a human-like cry. Then both noises were gone as something crashed off through the trees and was gone. Sam lurched forward into the clearing to inspect the ruined tent and camping gear, then searched the edges of the clearing for any sign as to where the thing had run to. "...it's gone."

Dean ran forward to try and find the source. "Dammit!" He cursed in frustration. This thing had taken yet another victim but they hadn't gotten here in time to stop it. There were claw marks slashed through the tent and streaks of blood everywhere. Cautiously, Dean made his way towards the bushes.

Sam pulled out a knife in each hand, raising them to defend himself as he circled the campsite. He eventually tucked one away again as he knelt to dig through what was left in the camp gear. Nothing much of anything useful. Anything that could have told them something about who was staying here had been scattered and broken. He poked through the ruins with his knife..

"Sam!" Dean motioned towards where he was standing before pointing to something in the dirt. "They were dragged from the campsite. A few feet at least." The trail ended just before some trees where Dean decided the victims must have been picked up and carried off.

Sam nodded and followed the tracks, pausing to look around when they vanished. "Huh. The tracks stop here. It didn't go down. Maybe it went up. Wonder if it flies, or climbs." The sun was starting to set, so as he peered up into the trees, he couldn't see much. Pulling out a flashlight, he checked again, but whatever it was had run off.

"Definitely no skinwalker or black dog," Dean commented.

The sound of a leaves rustling and branches snapping made them jerk around back towards the clearing. Something was running towards them, something with footsteps. Sam quickly pulled his gun, senses alert and searching forward. Dean dug through his duffel bag for a handgun and held it up just in time for the creature to appear through the trees and shriek.

Sam slowly smiled and he and Dean stowed their weapons as a young girl came into view. She was wearing ripped jeans and a faded shirt. Her blonde hair was messy with a few leaves and she looked exhausted. Approaching her, Sam leaned down a bit so that he wouldn't tower over her, hands out to show that he wasn't armed. "Hey, it's okay. Are you alright? Was something chasing you? Did you see something out there?"

She seemed spooked of something, Dean noticed. "It's alright, we won't hurt you." He held his empty hands up as well. "Look, we can help you, okay? But first you gotta tell us what happened out here. What's your name?"

She swallowed before nodding. "Caitlyn. Cait." She didn't look either of them in the eye, just wrapped her arms around herself. "We were just out here for the weekend."

"We?"

She nodded again. "Ronnie, Alex and me. We were sitting by the campfire when we heard a growling noise and some rustling in the trees. Ronnie told us it was nothing, just a bear or something, but then we heard someone yelling for help."

"Any idea who?"

This time Cait shook her head. "We grabbed our flashlights and went to check. Next thing we knew we heard Alex screaming and we couldn't find her anywhere. Ronnie said we should go get help, but we got separated. I've been out here in the woods ever since."

It must have been Ronnie that had been taken just before they arrived. It wasn’t hard to deduce.

Sam gave Cait a reassuring smile, reaching out to touch her shoulder gently. "It's gonna be alright. We'll find your friends. Whatever that thing was, it won't hurt anyone else."

Dean glanced over at Sam. He had a fairly good idea of what they were hunting now, just needed to make sure. He glanced at his watch and frowned at the time. "As much as I hate to say this, we're losing our daylight. We won't even make it halfway back to the station before it gets dark. Whatever's out there is a hunter, a damn good one, and it'll be an unbelievable one at night. What we need to do is fall in and protect ourselves."

Cait didn't look any more relaxed at the sound of all this, but she went along with it and followed them back into the clearing nervously.

Sam sighed and began to clear away the destroyed tent and scattered gear. He pushed it all into a pile in one corner. "You're right. I'll work on getting a fire going before it gets dark here."

Once he'd cleaned a space in the middle, he started gathering some small sticks and arranging them in the already dug out fire pit. He pulled up some dried grass and stuffed it under the edges of the kindling and went to work striking some stones together to try and get it to spark.

He sighed, rolling his eyes as his thoughts wandered to his mission. He hadn't planned on staying the night out here. He just wanted to get the job done, but this Dean Winchester was more complicated than he'd thought, and now they had some girl to watch over. She would get in the way. She could end up being a witness when it came time to dispose of Dean. He almost wanted to just pull her aside and slit her throat, but it'd be too obvious. It would be better if he 'accidentally' let the creature get her.

As the kindling started to catch, he gradually added bigger sticks, pulling from a pile next to him until the fire was roaring high. Sam sat back from the blaze, a longer branch in hand to prod the fire, rearranging the logs for better airflow, as much as just enjoying seeing the sparks fly. For a while, he watched it silently, the shifting flames mesmerizing while he thought over just how he could get rid of the girl, and then how to take care of Dean. Oh, right, and the monster that was hunting them all. It was all getting too complicated.

Meanwhile, Dean had pulled his father’s journal out of his pocket and was flipping through it, searching for a certain entry. He twirled a stick he’d found on the ground idly in his hand as he read. A yawn drew his attention and he looked over at Cait to see her curled next to the fire, trying and failing to stay awake.

“Just sleep. Sam and I will keep an eye out.”

He found the entry he was looking for and began to trace some symbols into the dirt.

“What are those?” Cait asked, leaning up to get a better look through the light of the fire.

"Anasazi protection symbols,” Dean explained as he worked. “As long as we stay inside them, it won't be able to get us." He made his way around the perimeter of the campsite and by the time he was finished, Cait had fallen asleep.

Sam glanced at Dean over the fire, elbows on his knees, hands folded under his chin. Every so often, looked away towards the trees, tracking the creature as it circled them but it didn't seem to come any closer, scared off by the fire. He watched idly as Dean traced meaningless symbols into the dirt. They were unnecessary, really. Of course, the fire would burn down eventually.

Dean tossed the stick he’d used into to the fire and sat down next to it. There was no way he was getting any sleep tonight. He pulled the journal out again, now searching through it for a different entry. "Here it is. Wendigo.” He turned the bulky volume so Sam could read. “Fairly sure this is what we're up against, the way it moves and hunts, the way it can mimic a human voice just like Cait told us. Never heard of one being this far west, though. Usually they're chowing down in Michigan or Minnesota."

Sam perked up, and peered at the open page. This was the book he'd seen in his vision. Reading over the scribbled notes, he nodded. "Sounds like it. Anything about how to kill it?"

"Well, guns and knives are useless, which is most of the stuff I packed," Dean answered with a small snort. "So that means we gotta torch the sucker. Good thing I thought to bring those flare guns."

"Fire, huh? Guess the campfire will keep us safe for now."

Placing the journal carefully on his lap, Dean dug through his bag until he found the flare guns. He'd brought an extra one just in case and was glad he did, too. He held them up to show Sam before placing them back in his bag, making sure they were right on top so they could be accessed quickly.

Sam scanned the page once more, then reached out a hand towards the journal. "Do you mind if I look through that? Might be something else in there."

"There isn't much else we need to know. How to kill it is all I care about." Dean frowned but he picked the journal up anyway and handed it to him. "Be careful with it. It belonged to my dad."

Dean didn't say anything else, just started to absentmindedly poke at the campfire coals with a stick, if only to give him an excuse not to start thinking about his father again.

Sam was somewhat curious about the Wendigo, but he was also curious to see what else was written. Maybe something that would tell him more about Dean, maybe some personal notes. They wouldn't be going out after the Wendigo until morning, and Sam was bored. He was half tempted to go back to playing with the fire, see if he could get it to sway with his mind. That, or maybe he would go for a walk. Yes, in the dark, with the Wendigo. Kick the thing's ass before it had a chance to find them. Maybe he could throw Caitlyn to it as bait. Though he probably couldn’t get away with doing that with Dean around.

Sam began to slowly flip through the pages, skimming over the contents. Most of it was notes on monsters, but occasionally he would come to a page that was written more like a personal journal. They didn't sound like what he knew of Dean, so maybe it was the father he had mentioned. Turning the pages in reverse order, Sam found more and more journal entries as he got closer to the front of the book. Most of it was mushy, whiney stuff about how the guy missed his wife. He was hell bent on taking down a demon who had broken up his family. There was no name mentioned. Just talk of a demon with yellow eyes. Sam grinned. Ol' Yellow Eyes. This family had been a victim of Azazel. No wonder they were so revenge-driven. When he came to the first page, he frowned and actually began to read it fully:

'A fire burned down our house last night. It claimed Mary's life, and took our little Sammy. I gave him to Dean and sent them outside, but when I got there, Sam was gone. I was afraid it'd killed Dean too, but when I shook him, he awoke. I tried to run back inside for Mary, but the blaze in the nursery was already too high. The strangest thing, though, was the fact that she was somehow stuck to the ceiling. Not hanging by ropes or pinned by stakes. Just held there, her lifeless eyes frozen in fear and pain. The last thing I saw before I ran was a strange set of yellow eyes in the corner of the room, a man's laughter following me. Everyone says I'm crazy, that I wasn't thinking clearly from the smoke in my lungs, but I saw something in there, something that wasn't human. I'm taking Dean to a friend of mine while I do some research. He'll be fine at Bobby's place. Bobby will know what to do.'

Sam stared at the page, re-reading it and pausing on the names Dean and Sammy. Sammy. 'SAMMY!' he heard in his head, a woman's voice, as if from a memory. And then fire. And then black. The book fell from his lap as he pressed his hands to his temples, rubbing at the sharp pain building there. What the hell was going on with him? He hadn't had headaches with his visions in years. And this didn't feel like a regular vision.

Dean turned to look back at Sam when he heard the sounds of pages flipping stopped. Suddenly the journal fell from Sam's lap and he clutched his head, as if in pain. Dean found himself inexplicably concerned as he shifted himself in front of him. "Hey, hey, hey! Sam! Sammy!" The nickname just slipped out, but he was too worried to notice.

When Sam’s sight finally cleared, he was bent forward, hands rubbing over his face. The pain subsided, and when he looked up, for a second he wasn't sure where he was. He couldn't remember much of the vision or memory he'd just experienced, only the pain. The pain had burned it right out of him, like maybe it was something he wasn't meant to remember.

Dean gripped his shoulders to try and keep him upright, giving a light shake to try and snap him out of it. "Sammy, look at me! It's gonna be okay!"

Sam's eyebrows pressed together in confusion when he caught sight of Dean, and the rest of his day finally flooded back to him, reminding him the reason he was here. By the end of his little episode, he was breathing a bit heavily. He blinked, reaching his hands out until they touched Dean's chest, something solid to keep him grounded. Every time Dean said 'Sammy', it sent another jolt of pain through his head, and he bent forward again, clutching at Dean's jacket. He couldn't seem to hold onto the memories that were trying to flicker just in the back of his mind, but there was this strange sense that maybe he'd met Dean before. A long, long time ago. He looked up again and caught sight of Dean's vivid green eyes, staring for a moment, then shaking his head. "I'm fine… I'm fine."

Dean had no idea what was happening or what to do about it. He could only wait for a response. Finally, Sam looked up and his expression shifted slightly. Dean breathed a sigh of relief. "Don't scare me like that, man! You looked like you were flipping out or something!"

As Sam's mind settled, he began to realize that he was in fact clinging to the man he was supposed to kill. He gently pushed Dean away, scooting back until he could get to his feet. He kept his hands open in front of him to keep Dean from coming any closer. "Just… need to stretch my legs. Gonna go for a walk. I'll be fine, I promise." He held up a flashlight, switching it on and waving it at the ground before he backed away, disappearing into the trees. The old journal was left at his feet where he'd sat, forgotten and laying open to the page which had sparked his memory.

When he was out of sight of the fire's light, he tipped back his water bottle, pouring some over his face and drinking the rest. This was not happening. He was not going to lose his cool. He had a job to do and he couldn't let stupid emotions and headaches get in the way. He just wished he could remember more, about what he'd read and what it meant to him. Give him a hint as to why he was getting these memory flashes around this stupid guy he'd never met.

Back in the clearing, Dean knew that Sam wasn't fine. Dean knew from the way he seemed shaken that something was definitely wrong with him. He shouldn't go after him, especially with the Wendigo out there. He shouldn’t be out there by himself.

If Sam didn't come back in five minutes, he told himself, then he'd go out looking for him.

He picked the journal up off the ground where it had been dropped and wiped the dirt away. The page it was opened to was his dad's very first entry, putting the only clue they had as to who had killed Mary and taken Sam. Dean's breath caught in his throat as something occurred to him: was this why Sam had flipped out? Hands shaking, Dean placed the journal back into his jacket pocket. What he'd give for a beer right now...

From the opposite direction Sam had left, a cry for help was heard. It made his head snap up. It sounded suspiciously like Sam calling out.

"Deaaaann!"

"Sam!" Dean went for the duffel and pulled out one of the flare guns.

“What… what’s happening?” Cait lifted her head up. The yell had woken her up.

"Stay right here," Dean told her as he made his way out of the clearing in the direction he'd heard the yell. "It can't get to you here. I'll be back in a minute."

He pulled his flashlight out and switched it on as he quickly made his way through the trees, searching for any signs of a struggle. But he saw nothing. No broken branches or downed leaves or drag marks in the dirt.

Too late he realized that it wasn’t Sam who had called out to him. He heard the rustling noises quickly coming closer and when Dean whipped around it was literally right there, just a shadow a couple feet in front of him. It was close enough that Dean could smell rotted flesh off its teeth. He lifted his flashlight and the beam connected to the ugly form of something less than human, something that was nothing but skin and bones and all the way monstrous. His eyes widened in shock and he fired his gun...

Sam made his way back towards the clearing when he heard a scuffle in the bushes, the creature likely trying to imitate a fight. As he got closer, Sam heard Dean calling out to someone. Then, there was the bang of a gun. A burst of fire shot through the trees in the distance, and he ran after it, pausing only to dig around in the duffel bag for the remaining flare gun. He glanced at Cait, then grabbed her by the arm and dragged her along. "You're coming with me. We need to go find out what's going on." Of course, he wouldn't tell her that he planned to use her to trade for Dean. Maybe the Wendigo would prefer some younger, fresh meat.

Running through the forest, he stopped near where the flames from Dean's flare gun were burning out, the gun and a flashlight dropped on the ground. He knelt down to touch both items briefly, hoping he could pick up some kind of trace from the Wendigo. There was nothing. The Wendigo hadn't touched them, and if he wasn't getting anything from Dean, that meant he was likely unconscious or dead. He shook his head, and began to search the area for tracks. There were some drag marks, and some claw marks on the trees, but after a while, he began to realize that the Wendigo was just leading them in circles.

He had only turned his back on the girl for one moment to search again, when she was yanked out of his grasp, her screams echoing as the Wendigo hauled her up into the trees. Sam swore and grumbled, shining the flashlight upwards in hopes to see which way it was heading. A blur streaked off in one direction, leaving a wake of snapping branches as it rushed away. Sam darted off after it, mumbling on the way. "Well, there goes my leverage." He would tell himself that he was only rescuing Dean so that he could be the one to kill him, but maybe he was just more than a little curious to know more about Dean's past.

Searching the old fashioned way with tracking sights and sounds, he lost the trail pretty quickly and was once again running around in circles. By the time he gave up and sat down for a break, the sun was starting to rise.


End file.
